The Waynes Sell Papers
by Finnland93
Summary: How Bruce Wayne and his children appear to the public.
Gotham loves the Waynes.

The Waynes sell papers.

Newspapers announce Wayne Enterprise's newest business deals, stock value, funded programs and donations, and new scholarship opportunities. But nothing sells papers like drama.

The Waynes are shrouded in mystery and scandal. Rumors being born from the most random of sources but spreading like a virus. They contradict each other, one after the other, but that doesn't stop people from believing them. People like rumors of scandals.

Scandals sell papers.

Official photographs taken of Bruce Wayne at the latest gala, a wide, plastic grin plastered to his face and a large arm resting around the shoulders of the newest model. If his other hand wasn't holding a champagne glass then it was usually around the waist of another.

Paparazzi photos popping up in tabloids. Photographers fighting to catch Gotham's party-boy at his best...or, as more accurately stated, at his worst.

Bruce Wayne never seems to mind anyway. Bruce Wayne loves the attention.

And the papers love him.

Even when Wayne isn't present, he sells papers. If the Prince of Gotham so much as skips out on a celebration or leaves a baseball game early, words fly. What sort of secrets could Brucie be hiding? What sort of company does he have waiting in his room for him this time? Has he taken a liking to one of Gotham's many underground nightclubs? Open ended questions are real eye-catchers. People eat them up.

Everyone talks about Bruce. Celebrities who have never been seen with the man talk of cruises and romantic getaways and rendezvous. More people have slept with Bruce Wayne than the man physically has time for.

Celebrity magazines advertise Bruce Wayne's physique. For a man that seems to live to party, he is in amazing shape. Diets and exercise plans promising to give you the body and popularity of Bruce Wayne are definitely not uncommon to see.

Because they sell papers.

Sales have only skyrocketed once Dick Grayson joined the business.

Initially, it had been based on tragedy and drama. The orphaned circus boy taken in by none other than playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne. It was a story that Soap Opera producers should have picked up on. But while they didn't, the press sure did.

Once the initial altruism and heartwarming concern that Bruce Wayne had shown to the orphan had grown stale and boring, new stories began to surface. Some tabloids claimed Grayson to really be the bastard son of the billionaire, others claimed the whole tragedy at Haley's circus to be a hoax even. (After all, who would believe anything that the media reported?). Others questioned Bruce Wayne's intentions with the boy. Different articles had different ideas, a few even dipping into conspiracy theories.

Whether right or wrong, idiotic or plausible, it didn't matter what any of them said.

They all sold papers.

While the adoption didn't stop Bruce Wayne altogether, it did sober the playboy a tad. He didn't pose for as many playful pictures, nor did he appear with as many women. Usually the press would have been disappointed, enraged even to lose even a smidgen of their earnings from their Golden Goose, but, as it turns out, Dick Grayson's made up for it.

It shouldn't have been surprising, considering the boy had been a performer all of his early life. He's a natural in front of the cameras. Like his foster father, he knows what the people want. He gives that same dreamy smile, makes good use of the Wayne family's fortune in his clothing, and makes sure that the paparazzi could catch up to him from time to time.

As Grayson grows into his older teens, the public can't wait but see just who he is dating next. Whether it's a simple girl from his school or another of Gotham's celebrities, it sold.

Dick Grayson is quick witted and chatty. One of his many perks. He gives snappy quotes to journalists and paparazzi that people would laugh at. No matter how stupid or ridiculous, they love it. Just as long as it's accompanied with that wide, cheesy grin of his.

Dick Grayson is a natural. He doesn't need to do much.

And he sells papers.

Jason Todd was another story though.

The initial shock of the street rat's adoption into the Wayne family produced an unsurprising rise in sales. But the profits didn't stay high for long. While rumors and scandal still flew, combating the articles and photos of Bruce Wayne's graciousness, Todd's popularity fell flat too soon.

The press didn't give up on what they saw as a potential cash cow. They hounded and swarmed around the idea of a true underdog, being scraped from the lowest depths of Gotham's streets and being lifted into the embrace of royalty. But the story became stale fast. Dick's beginnings had been similar enough but provided more drama and interest where Jason's story lacked. There were, after all, far too many Jason Todd's in Gotham. Instead of marveling at this one street kid's rise to glory, people looked at it more as a charity case, the next publicity stunt of Bruce Wayne's that shouldn't last more than a few months at most. No one liked the idea of a street kid standing next to the Waynes. Not when it wasn't them.

That didn't sell papers.

Not that Jason didn't have his chances. He was still a Wayne. Opportunities to rise up and prove the public wrong; that he too, was deserving of the Wayne fame and popularity were abundant. Even before his skinny, young body began filling out into muscle, his name and status alone could have gotten him anything.

But Jason didn't want that.

Bruce and Dick would only be caught in the best of clothing. They were always armed with an award winning smile and a face that begged to draw attention. Jason instead would disappear into crowds, scowling when a camera did manage to catch sight of him. He wore wrinkled jeans and over-sized hoodies. Even at galas, when dressed in a tux only a Wayne could afford, he stuck out. Like a ' _monkey in a suit_ ', one column said. ' _A piece of coal trying to pass itself off as a diamond_ '.

Jason Todd lacked the charm or finesse to sell papers.

Dick had assisted in his brother's work like drawing him into posed pictures and trying to negate the younger's scowl with his photogenic smile. But that didn't depreciate the scowls and curses the young teen was captured doing. Jason Todd was too volatile, too harsh, too _ordinary_ to be a Wayne. But the papers still found a use for him.

If the papers couldn't use him as a prince, then Jason Todd would be the menace. Speculations of the street boy falling into the habits of his kind. At nights the teen was surmised to partake in underage drinking, running with gangs and shooting up on drugs. (If only the papers knew just what Jason Todd spent his nights doing.)

.

.

.

Jason Todd never sold more papers than when he died.

The boy had become a star overnight. Suddenly everyone wanted to hear about the fate of the youngest Wayne child. People mourned for the loss of such a young life with so much potential. The press bemoaned the flickering out of a star, as if they had loved Jason all a long. They were saddened for Gotham's richest family and offered empty condolences.

But they love Jason now, and that's all that matters. The youngest Wayne had finally fulfilled his purpose. He just had to die to do it.

And the papers love him for it.

Timothy Drake sighed softly, carefully placing down the freshest of the newspaper clippings into the box before him. He stared at the numerous clippings, both old and new, some already yellowing and curling with age or from exposure. The wrinkles on the pictures, the smudges of the ink were a clear indicator of which articles had been the most important; which pictures he had stared at the longest. Tim let his eyes wonder over those pictures once again, scanning over the photographed faces that he had come to recognize so well. The faces of the Wayne family.

Any info, any mention or sighting of Gotham's family, Tim couldn't help but collect. Even when it was full of lies and fake smiles.

Tim had wondered many times why he collected this info. It had started during his investigation of the Waynes when he had first suspected them to be Gotham's knights. Then he continued out of curiosity, studying to understand the reason of it all. And when, years later, Tim still found himself snipping up the latest picture of Grayson from a celebrity magazine, staring at the wide, toothy smile, Tim finally realized why.

Because it made Tim's other collection all the more genuine.

The papers loved the Waynes, and it almost made the preteen laugh. If only the papers knew just how many papers Bruce Wayne and his family were selling for them in their nighttime occupation.

But, then again, if the papers ever knew about that, then they would realize how everything else they have is fake.

The Bruce Wayne that Gotham knows is nothing but a mask. That wide, cheesy grin and careless attitude was nothing but the real cowl that covered the stoic, careful, and calculating man that was the Batman. While the exact same couldn't be said for the first Robin and current Nightwing, it was still clear as day how different Gotham's beloved Dick Grayson was from his counterpart.

Tim set aside the pile of newspaper and magazine clippings before turning to the second box he had earlier retrieved from beneath one of the loose floorboards. Despite the fact that there was no longer a likelihood of anyone stumbling upon Tim and his treasures, he couldn't help but raise his head and listen for the approach of others as he cautiously opened the box. Inside were carefully organized stacks of photographs, placed carefully as to not bend the tips, and divided by tabs. The bottles containing the negatives of the photos were also meticulously organized, each marked with tape and Tim's messy scribble. Every photo had been carefully and secretly developed by Tim himself. After all, these photos were his secret. No one else deserved to see Gotham's star family like this.

Streaks of black, lightning blue, and the iconic red, yellow and green. Tim had spent hundreds of hours worth of time, alone on the cold, damp rooftops of Gotham, just waiting for a glimpse of his heroes. He'd stalked through rat-infested alleys that smelt of blood and urine, hiding in dumpsters and steeling his nerves to get these photos.

Earlier photos were blurred and dark. He hadn't been experienced enough to use his father's old camera properly, nor could he use the camera's flash. That was obvious. So he possessed few pictures of a younger Batman and a lithe, acrobatic Robin. It wasn't until the thick, street-fighting Robin had taken the mantle and Nightwing had made his debut when Tim was really able to hone his photography (and stalking) skills.

Flying across buildings, beating on thugs, comforting victims, and rooftop stakeouts made up the majority of his collection (the latter being the most difficult to find, since the Bats could often be mistaken as shadows or gargoyles). But the best scenes that Tim captured were just of the vigilante team together on the rooftops. It wouldn't take long, Tim noticed, for Nightwing to mouth something that would cause Robin to shake his shoulders in laughter, or straight up tackle the man. Moments with Nightwing and Robin grinning together, disapproving glares from the Batman, brawls, etc...

It was these moments that proved that the Waynes that Gotham knew were fakes. Captured through these pictures, the Waynes had never looked so genuine. Dick able to wear his true smile as he flipped and somersaulted from building to building, falling through the sky with the grace of the bird he claimed to be. Bruce's jaw relaxed into its natural position, shoulders appearing just a tad lighter beneath the dozens of burdens that the man undoubtedly carried. And Jason...

Jason had never looked more alive than when he donned the mask and cape.

Tim's heart fluttered painfully as he took in the sight of those iconic colors. It was one of the last photos he had captured of the smart-mouthed, reckless, courageous Robin. There was nothing special about this particular picture. It was of Robin socking an unlucky thug in the face. The lighting had been bad and the angle could have been better, but Tim couldn't stop staring at the last visage that he'd ever see of that wicked and crooked smile.

He had met Jason a few times when his parents had managed to drag him to a gala or two. Heck, there he'd met all of the Waynes. His heart nearly popped out of his chest the first time he met his heroes in person. He had mentally prepared what would be the best way to greet them, and cataloged all the possible responses to anything that might be said. He had even practiced faces in the mirror the night before. However, like most of his life, the meetings never met his expectations. It didn't take much more than the simple greeting he had practiced hours on for him to notice the masks they wore.

He had berated himself for it. Of course they wouldn't just lift their masks for Tim. To him, he had been just another of Gotham's spoiled, socialite children. Bruce and Dick gave him their classic artificial smiles and Jason had barely looked at him.

Tim had wanted to meet the real Wayne family, the ones who preferred to flip off roofs and fight for Gotham rather than throw their money at it. And there was only one place Tim could go to meet them.

It was impossible to describe the pain he felt that he'd never get to know the real Jason.

"Master Timothy, the car ready out front. May I assist you with any more of your luggage?"

Tim's head shot towards the door, hands twitching towards the box in front of him. Heart nearly beating out of his chest, he turned to look at the stoic face of the elderly, British man who had managed to sneak up on him. Fingers clenched towards the box. Despite knowing that this was one of the few people he could trust his treasure with, Tim couldn't quite overcome habit. It made him smile sheepishly and he was sure his face had even reddened a tad in shame. But the butler didn't give any sign that he had noticed. Tim was grateful for that.

"No thanks, Alfred. I only have a few more things to grab."

"Very good, sir. I shall be waiting in the car. But I insist that we do make this fast if you want there to be any cookies left after Master Richard's ravaged through the kitchen."

Tim felt his body relax and his smile grew. His heart hurt, and he wasn't exactly sure why. The humored lift to his voice as he replied was something he'd never heard come out of his mouth.

"Thank you, Alfred. I won't take long."

And with that, the butler disappeared, leaving Tim alone again in his bare room.

He glanced back down to the box of photos, fingers shuffling through a couple more before he pulled the box closed and carefully deposited it into his backpack.

He took one last long look at the bedroom he had lived in his whole life. It had always been his haven, the one place he could be peace without having to worry about what others saw him as. It was the one place where he didn't have to search for approval. Yet now, the room seemed so strange and foreign to him. Not like what he felt in his new room in the Wayne manor. He'd spent no more than a few days in it, and already it had turned into a new haven. Tim felt as if he looked at this room as an inmate looked at his cell just before release.

Tim didn't have to look much longer at his room before he felt ready to leave it. The first box full of news clippings and magazine reports on the Waynes was left forgotten on his bed. He wouldn't need those any more. He didn't need to see those facades to understand how real the Waynes could be. After all, he would now get to see the real faces of the Waynes first hand. He'd get to know his heroes- his family- personally. (Even if that meant only seeing one brother from the eyes and words of the others).

Tim is about to become a Wayne and he knows only too well what this entails. He, too, will have to begin a life of wearing a mask of his own. One besides the Robin mask.

News of his adoption will go viral. The press will go into mass hysteria, trying to capture an interview, or even a word from the Wayne's newest prince. Rumors will fly, camera's will flash, (and Tim doesn't know what to think about being on the opposite end of the camera) and people will talk. He will appear in magazines as Wayne's newest charity case, as a publicity stunt, or a scandal. But Tim doesn't mind. If wearing a mask is what Tim needs to do to help others, to soar by Batman's side, to fly as free as a robin, then so be it.

Tim will sell papers.


End file.
